Review: Conclave

Conclave is a reminder that there's a good reason why the Best Picture award at the Oscars is given to the film's producers. This is a very good film, verging on excellent: it's also a film that was clearly put together, a puzzle the likes of which Hollywood seems to have largely forgotten how to complete.

Based on a (short, pacy, punchy) novel by Robert Harris (Fatherland), it's the story of what happens after a Pope dies - the cardinals get together, they have a vote and keep on voting until they have a new Pope. Once the election has begun, no-one gets in or out (technically), so the pressure's on.

While the former Pope's right hand man, Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes) works to keep everything above board, various power blocs emerge. The forces looking to head back to the past - an Italian Pope, masses in Latin, social attitudes out of some previous century - are unified and strong, while those looking to keep moving forward are divided, their votes sloshing behind one candidate then another. 

Lawrence's duty is to the church, though he sides with the progressives. Scandals must be investigated; better to lose a weak candidate than elect a fatally flawed Pope. But all the scandals seem to dog those on his side of the vote; as one after the other drops out, is there anyone who can unite the Church in its time of need?

Harris has been writing thrillers for decades now, and Conclave touches on issues both modern and eternal via a twisty plot featuring a number of memorable characters. The people here are almost all creatures of politics, their words and expressions always looking to shore up their positions - and as in real life, the most powerful players are the ones who don't seem to be playing at all. 

The setting is a mix of vast opulent rooms where people make speeches about charity and piety, and utilitarian stairwells and corridors where the real moving and shaking gets done. Even when the rooms are bland and functional, they're telling us something about the mechanisms of power - and seeing a Cardinal in full costume in a room with modern office equipment is always good for a chuckle.

The credits are full of names (Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow, Lucian Msamati, Isabella Rossellini) who have been perfectly cast, the kind of actors who are subservient to their roles and work within a film rather than trying to go big and be a breakout star. If they're in a bad film, they're rarely the cause or the cure; here, in a good film, they each play their part to perfection without trying to attract attention with over-the-top performances. Except, of course, for those cardinals for whom "over the top" is a power play.

Not everything here is perfect, especially if your attitude to the Catholic Church is a skeptical one. This is a story that admits the Church has flaws, but also sees it as an organisation still capable of good. Within the confines of the film, it works; thinking about it afterwards is another matter.

But the pleasures here are mostly small and nuanced, even at those times when the characters go big. The plot is a well-(holy) oiled machine, carefully laying the groundwork for the next big twist even as the current one is playing out. All the main characters get one big scene, and all the actors take full advantage, a string of Oscar clips that all fit perfectly into the wider story.

It all comes together in a satisfyingly mature fashion, entertainment for grown-ups. It's serious but light on its feet, a good time for an audience that doesn't need everything explained to them but likes everything to be wrapped up tidily. In the current cinematic climate, it's a blessing.

- Anthony Morris